Villa

“Thank you for arranging this meeting today.”

“No, the pleasure is entirely ours…”

The baron looked a touch older than his years, yet his hands were remarkably smooth and free of wrinkles. Whether his face had simply aged faster than the rest of him or his hands were unusually well-kept, Jack, watching from the side, felt a flicker of curiosity. But that curiosity was quickly buried beneath a wave of revulsion.

Because Baron Alrrrbingbing had curled his index finger and tickled Aspara’s palm in the middle of their handshake.

Did that bastard just —?

This bastard.

Aspara silently recited the value of today’s prospective deal, forcing the corners of her mouth not to drop. For a heartbeat, both southerners felt as though they were back in their homeland.

“It’s cold out — please, let us head inside. I’ve had a warm luncheon prepared, so let’s save the business talk for after we eat.”

The interior was just as crammed with artwork as the exterior walls, and just as beautiful, but there was little sense of anyone actually living here. Star peered around the entrance hall and murmured to Ugli.

“Did Madam really used to live like this? It’s pretty, I’ll give it that, but it looks terribly uncomfortable. With the ceiling going all the way up from the entrance and no landing in between — a person could freeze to death in here.”

“If their people saw how we build, they’d probably think the same. Still, this is just stupid. Why would you build a house like this in this climate? Look at the size of those windows — you really would freeze to death.”

The two quietly disparaged the baron’s interior design as they made their way to the dining hall. Instead of the smell of fish, the local staple, the air hung thick with oil and spices.

“Oh my, what a shame — you’ve come all this way to the villa, and here we are making you eat southern food.”

“Not at all. I can’t touch northern food myself. The smell is just too strong, wouldn’t you say?”

The meal was laden with fresh vegetables and fruit, worth their weight in gold this far north, along with honey and custard.

But even more than the honey-glazed meat and the strawberries, something else struck her as unfamiliar.

Eating separately from the attendants — now that’s something I haven’t done in quite a while.

The spacious dining hall held two tables set roughly ten paces apart. A high table and a low table. Far enough that you couldn’t overhear the other’s conversation, but close enough that someone could rush over if a threat arose.

It was a sight rarely seen in the north, where people huddled close and shared food to ward off the cold.

The low table was ringed by a number of wooden chairs, while the high table had only two, set facing each other.

“Will your wife not be joining us?”

“Ah, she’ll eat at the other table. She’s a northern woman by birth, so she doesn’t mind sharing with the help.”

Aspara glanced toward the low table. At first glance the spread looked similar, but a closer look revealed subtle differences: the pine nut garnish was absent, and the meat-and-vegetable stew was heaped with nothing but vegetables.

“Is that so.”

“Ha ha, they can’t understand a word we’re saying, so there’s no need to be delicate. Let us civilized folk discuss civilized business, shall we?”

“Ah, yes.”

Aspara answered, consciously lifting the corners of her mouth.

The vassals from Fang Castle and the baron’s wife settled into their seats at the low table in short order.

“Thank you for the meal, Madam.”

“This is a dish I’ve never seen before — is it duck?”

The wife said nothing.

As Ugli had hinted, it was a fairly open secret around here that the baron’s northern residence was a house kept for a local woman. But the baron did not seem to visit very often. Or perhaps he simply didn’t speak to his northern wife very often.

The proof was that the wife could barely speak a word of the southern tongue. Even Aspara, whose marriage contract had been signed not long ago, had picked up a handful of basic phrases by now; yet this slender northern woman had no idea what was being discussed at the table ten paces away.

“Madam, if I may ask — how is an international marriage?”

“I’m not sure you can call it a marriage when we never had a ceremony. Well, it’s livable enough. He’s hardly ever home, so in practice I’m just lounging around on my own.”

“Really? Our castle lord is a newlywed too, and he’s barely home either. I bet even at night they sleep separ—”

“Star, hush!”

The company at the low table had begun to chatter. The senior servant scolded the young maid, who was especially thrilled by the dazzling new surroundings.

“What? It’s true, isn’t it? Just look at today.”

“That’s because urgent business came up — it’s a fact. Do you have any idea how hard the castle lord’s been working in the middle of everything else — learning the southern tongue, searching for qualified people?”

“I know, I know. But printing technology all comes from the central kingdom, so textbooks for northerners are rarer than gold. Out here on the frontier, people who cross the border in either direction are scarce too… The only sort of person who’d bother with something that unusual is some eccentric up to no good where nobody’s watching.”

The baron’s wife glanced sidelong at her husband as she spoke.

“If I may be so bold as to offer a word of advice to His Majesty’s consort…”

She shot a brief glare at Jack, who was shoveling chicken tartare into his mouth as if the conversation had nothing to do with him, then continued.

“When two people who were strangers come to live under one roof, it’s only natural that things don’t quite fit. And so, perhaps it’s better from the very start not to understand what the other person is saying.”

Aspara found the baron unpleasant. But the business she’d prepared for today had to move forward.

“Hmm, not bad terms, I suppose. But the distribution costs for shipping all the way out there would still be…”

“It’s a product with a long shelf life and a small volume, wouldn’t you agree? Purchase in bulk and stockpile, and you’ll turn a profit for certain.”

“Speaking of stockpiling…”

The baron pressed his foot against hers beneath the embroidered tablecloth.

“Your husband seems to be a perceptive man.”

“Pardon?”

That was, in truth, closer to a reflexive “Huh?” than a polite “Pardon?”

“Vacating his seat like this so his wife can negotiate freely. He must be quite the business-minded fellow.”

“He’s not, particularly.”

But the one running this deal is me. And what kind of segue is “Speaking of stockpiling”?

Aspara simply tore off a piece of bread and ate it in silence.

“Baron, I’ve heard you have a beautiful wife. Three of them, in fact.”

“Ha ha ha, wives! You’re far too conventional. I’m not the sort of man who lets himself be shackled by society’s chains.”

Ten paces away, at the low table.

Jack found the voice of Baron Alrrrr… insufferably grating.

The man was probably speaking at a volume he assumed wouldn’t carry, but Jack could hear every word. Unable to join the conversation at his own table, conducted entirely in the northern tongue, he had no choice but to tune in to the only language he could understand: the southern tongue drifting from the far end.

And so the two southerners exchanged a look, the sort of silent eye-conversation they’d had more than enough of back home.

Sit tight. This isn’t our first time dealing with a man like this.

Jack, who had been unconsciously side-eyeing Baron Arhrhrh…, straightened his head at last.

“Besides, what’s so wrong with sharing a little love outside the box? Goodness, what a stifling custom! I — a man with the soul of an artist — have always found it strange. Don’t you agree? This land of barbarians is so pure and free that such things aren’t even considered wrong here. Ah, that’s exactly why I love my wife. The women here possess such artistic souls — unlike city women, they aren’t bound by such things. Innocence untouched by civilization! Surely you understand?”

Says the imbecile who built a high-ceilinged plank house in the middle of a snowfield and now lectures about civilization.

“How fascinating — I’ve never heard such a thing before. Say, Jack. What sort of punishment does a man receive around here for coveting another man’s wife?”

Aspara put on an expression of genuine curiosity and called across to the table where her escort knight sat.

Jack leaned over and whispered into Ugli’s ear. Ugli promptly turned and whispered back into Jack’s.

“Chemical castration, apparently.”

In the central kingdom, it was well known that such a procedure was performed on the male attendants who served the royal consorts. However, it required a considerable level of medical skill. There was no way these northern savages possessed that kind of expertise, or so the baron thought.

These barbarians and their barbarian lackeys, spouting nonsense just to make a fool of me.

The baron, perceiving a petty joke, let out a dismissive laugh.

“Ha ha ha, I had no idea the north possessed such advanced techniques. My, I’d love to see that for myself.”

“Yes. The north has, since ancient times, been home to many large beasts, so they’ve developed quite the expertise in refining high-purity hydrochloric acid.”

The baron gave a small, awkward laugh to mask his discomfort.

“Ha ha ha.”

“That wasn’t a joke…”

“…”

The baron cleared his throat several times, expression stiffening with embarrassment, then pressed on.

“Ahem, well, let’s set the jesting aside. In any case… just between us — isn’t that just how political marriages work? Surely your husband would be happier knowing his wife devoted her body to gathering funds for the realm, wouldn’t you?”

He won’t listen to a word I say right now anyway. With that thought, Aspara replied. The fact that she and Gus still hadn’t consummated their wedding night was, of course, not something she could disclose.